


my heart in your hands

by ningningbin



Category: ENHYPEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Heavy Angst, I promise it's fluff, M/M, child actor! sunoo, fast burn, flowers are significant in the story, i would call this a comfort fic but it's a bumpy ride so hold on, it reads like a drama/movie/miniseries ig??, musician! sunghoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningningbin/pseuds/ningningbin
Summary: They walk into each other's lives broken, and come out whole.But maybe not as one.or, the one au where sunghoon's a musician who's in a slump and sunoo's an actor who's never felt love; they complete each other but things just never seem to fall into place around them
Relationships: Kim Sunoo/Park Sunghoon
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	my heart in your hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *************** please read!!
> 
> HI THIS IS, AS USUAL, UN-BETAED
> 
> this has been an idea that's been brewing in my head for some time, and it's disappointing that i couldnt make this better? the start is slow, but there are lots little easter eggs i scatter all around that'll make you go "OHHH" when you find them, which i think will be vv fun if you choose to re-read it!
> 
> it'll definitely be a smoother ride if you read it all at once when the chapters are all up, but, you know, the anticipation of waiting for an update can be fun too. all my fics are created from ideas of feelings that i can't really put perfectly into words. this one is that feeling of watching a movie, or a series, you don't want to end but you're approaching the finale anyway. i hope we can experience that together, but i don't think i'll ever be able to do that very specific, amazing feeling, any justice!
> 
> this is the important part! i've linked songs that are specific to the chapter at the very end :] just click on the little music note and it'll take you there! i don't advice you to read them with the song playing in the background, though, but for the full experience hehe i think it'd be better if you leave it playing while you close ur eyes after the chapter's ended. Exactly like the credits rolling at the end of an episode!
> 
> with all that said, i hope you enjoy this piece <3

How do stories start—with an epiphany? A realization, perhaps, or maybe it starts with a montage of how his life has been perfect all along until things start to break down and disintegrate when he's finally met the only person who can salvage the spiraling disaster it’s become.

Park Sunghoon’s starts with a memory almost every child has had: 

The first time your mother brings you to the corner convenience store and presses a cold coin into your palm, a wistful smile on her lips. She’s watching you grow up. She’s teaching you to trust yourself. When you’re young, you don’t truly comprehend what this small gesture is building up to, but now that you’re older, you start to understand that this is an acknowledgment that you’re growing up, that your mother’s going to have to start letting you do things on your own now.

When this happened to Sunghoon, his heart swelled with pride and he closed his grubby little fingers around the coin, holding his breath as he felt its weight. He’s always been a rather anxious child, though, so he worried over a bunch of _what-ifs_ that raced through his head. _What if he couldn’t carry out the task right? What if the money wasn’t enough—what if the change was wrong and he doesn’t realize until much later?_ There was a certain responsibility that came with the price of purchasing a snack he wanted so badly.

Much like how there’s a certain responsibility that comes with holding someone’s heart in your hands.

Sunghoon stood at the counter, and turned back to look at his mother for help. Holding out his hand, he surrendered the coin back to her, wanting the money to be in better hands.

He’s eighteen now.

It’s the first time he’s fallen in love, but this isn’t what it should feel like.

It feels like someone’s just shot a bullet through his heart, because they’re both standing in the rain, clothes wet and glued to their bodies, but no one’s feeling any of the icy cold because they’re burning with fear and shaking with frustration.

There’s a responsibility that comes with owning someone’s heart, and it’s not one he’s ready to bear. Just like he did when he was seven, Sunghoon’s going to have to make the difficult choice of giving this piece of happiness up so that Sunoo can be in the better care of someone more reliable elsewhere.

Even if it hurts.

He looks at the betrayal on Sunoo’s face, as the hair plastered to his forehead that Sunghoon longs to brush away gently with the back of his hand. It’s going to hurt, but they’re already hurting anyway.

_They're already hurting anyway—_ it can't hurt much more than this, right?

_Sunoo's_ story, on the other hand... if life were a movie, his would've started from the very moment he was born. The first thing he was taught to fully memorize and learn wasn't the alphabet or the numbers. Naturally, he picked those up, of course, but his parents never prioritized his studies. He was shoved into chairs after chairs where unsmiling strangers turned his face this way and that, touched and pulled at his hair till it hurt. He cried and wailed at first, until it was keyed into his head that no one would come to his rescue even if he did, so he just resigned to his fate eventually.

He was only six when he began to grasp the concept of stardom. He was, according to all these articles he could barely read, a child celebrity.

He'd walk the streets and people he didn't know would ask for pictures. Normal children would shy away from a stranger's touch, especially when it came on so strong, but Sunoo only smiled, like he usually does, and posed for a quick photo. Other kids his age would be berated for nearing strangers and accepting their bribes, their candies, in the first place. Sunoo was praised for being so mild-mannered for a child who was shoved into the spotlight this early on in his life.

Then he turned sixteen, and this was when the problem started. Sixteen's supposed to be a good age, right? That's what the movies he starred in often relayed to the eager audience. That sixteen's where your life truly, truly starts. This is when you hold insane birthday parties with friends that'll stick with you for a lifetime, and go to the theaters and watch the latest movies on the first day of release, and study extremely hard for your exams to get rewarded with ice cream when it's all over. Sunoo had thought turning sixteen would make him a normal boy again, but that was the same year his popularity skyrocketed and all of a sudden, he couldn't even leave his home without being swamped by fans and flocks of paparazzi trying to make a scandal out of nothing.

He couldn't make friends, because all the ones he's had have either backstabbed him by feeding lies to the press for quick cash, or are only there for him when it benefits them. Theaters are out of the question—he could barely enjoy a peaceful meal at a restaurant, what more a crowded space with people who're bound to recognize him immediately. Exams? He's been home-schooled his whole life. Because his parents are _nice enough_ to adjust their whole lives around his budding career. Because they're always so _accomodating_ and caring.

On the year he turned seventeen, the industry has finally deemed him "old enough" to take on lead roles. This was a _huge_ boost in his income because everyone wanted _the_ Kim Sunoo to star in their coming-of-age dramas and movies. He was over the moon initially—for the first time in his life, he was going to meet, and socialize, with people his age who'd understand his feelings.

Yeah, it didn't work out that way. His co-stars, everyone he met on set... they were all just as jaded as he was. Empty, till you put them in front of a camera and told them what to do.

But these days, he found himself wondering what love would feel like if he had a chance to dip his toes into it. That was what everyone was experiencing at his age. _Love._ It's what he portrayed perfectly on-screen, role after role. Though the characters he played weren't that different from one another... An umbrella to shield his co-star in the rain, little things like leaving chocolate on desks, writing cute notes to each other, confessing through heart-fluttering texts. This is love seen from other people's eyes, written and then rewritten into different scripts with the same set-ups.

That kind of love, he discovers when he meets Park Sunghoon, is nowhere as thrilling, or as overwhelming as the real kind is.

But here's the truth—it also isn't as painful.

**EPISODE I: SONDER**

It's a pretty night out—the _perfect_ night, actually. Sunghoon slips out of apartment 207 with a flannel shirt half-draped over his frame and he struggles to arrange all his limbs in the right way while he figures out how to lock the door with one hand. Once he does that, he kneels down to empty some cat food into the bowl at the end of the hall the residents have collectively agreed to leave out for the neighborhood cat. It goes by many names because everyone insists that _their_ version is the best, but Sunghoon doesn't think it minds. He doesn't even think it cares, and if it does, it certainly doesn't look it whenever he sees the cute tabby purring the whole time it devours its food hungrily.

Sunghoon calls the cat Sunghoon. You know, so he can talk to himself without making it weird. He spends too much time in his own thoughts anyway.

He doesn't usually take walks... mostly because he doesn't like being outside in the first place. Seoul is too busy, always changing, always moving. It's tragically ironic how he came here for a change of pace, only to realize that he preferred life in his quaint little seaside town better, where you can wake at twelve noon and the rest of your day still feels like a whole lot of hours. You could give Sunghoon a whole eighteen hours to work here, and it'd still feel like it isn't enough. He spends every day working his ass off to support his dying dream, and still has to endure falling asleep to the fear that he might've just wasted a whole day doing nothing.

But it's not like he can help it. He's burned out, tired. Stuck in a slump.

The grocery receipts he crumples and chucks into the bin no longer have bars of notes from moments when inspiration would strike him while he's choosing his dinner for the night, and the instruments leaning against the walls haven't been tuned in so long he can no longer bring himself to do it. He opens his mouth to sing and the melodies die in his throat before he can get themvout. He lays his ideas to rest before they even have a chance to grow and bloom.

Sunghoon isn't himself anymore. He'd thought moving to Seoul would fix him up and rid him of the problem the doctors can't seem to diagnose, but if anything, it only seems to have gotten worse since his parents aren't even here to police what he eats and does with his body anymore.

So, you know. It's the perfect night out. Too bad he's not one of those rich Seoul kids who can afford to take a breather out in the park and scream into the Han River and smoke and kiss and dance like nobody's watching or like they don't care. He's out here to walk to the corner convenience store where he works part-time to pay rent. And as much as the pretty night sky is begging to be written into a song, Sunghoon knows the words in his head won't flow out the tip of his pen even if he decides to put it on paper, so he tries thinking of something else. Just to take his mind off of music for a while.

This road he takes to his workplace... it's lonely. Deserted on most nights. No one frequents it, unless you count the tired-looking thirty-somethings that sometimes stop under the flickering orange streetlamps to light a stick and smoke for a bit before continuing down their own paths. So for a stretch of twenty minutes or so, Sunghoon usually gets some peace and quiet for himself. There's enough tranquility in the comfort of knowing that this park (just a wide patch _grass_ sandwiched between gray blocks of apartment buildings, really) is only his that it _does_ work in undoing the knots in his neck, his shoulders, most of the time.

But tonight, when he rounds the bend that'll take him to his secret garden, his peace is interrupted by a long, stuttering cry that sounds so desperate it stops him in his tracks.

_There's another boy,_ he quickly notices. Well, it's not like the sight is easily overlooked. 

He's sobbing, shoulders heaving with the weight of all that sadness that's wrapping its tendrils around his frame, the anguish so palpable that it _feels_ tangible. Sunghoon feels like he's being sucked into it like he's chanced upon a black hole of poignant sorrow. His steps falter uncertainly, and with a press of his lips together, Sunghoon steers himself towards the river bank where the crying boy has planted himself mere inches away from the rusting blue iron fence. Fuck work—that can wait.

He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing by approaching the guy. After all, if he were to put himself in the boy's shoes, he wouldn't want someone to see him breaking down like this, so vulnerable that it seems like he's a small tap away from falling into pieces. But they're here, and the river's just... right there. And Sunghoon would regret it if he doesn't try.

So approaches the figure tentatively, sitting himself down a comfortable distance away, far enough that it won't frighten the boy.

"Hey," Sunghoon tries, making his voice as soft as possible. He attempts to recall how his mother does it all so well, so perfectly. She's had years of experience comforting others before he ever came into her life, of course, but if he's going to miss work for this, he might as well make it worthwhile and give whatever this is his best shot. He's read somewhere on the Internet before that it's best he mirrors the boy's actions to gain trust, so he does that—arranges his limbs into the same pose. Soon, his knees are hugged tightly to his chest and his arms are folded over them, and his cheek is pressed into the sleeve of the soft flannel he's wearing.

Contrary to what he thought would play out, the crying boy doesn't respond, doesn't even lift his head up to check who's there. Just. Buries his face deeper into his hands.

"Hey, look, wanna talk?" Sunghoon asks, going for a different angle this time round, but _fully expecting no answer._

The boy defies his belief again, this time by answering in a faintly familiar voice that Sunghoon can't pinpoint where he'd heard it from before, "It's nothing. You should be on your way—just had a bad day, is all."

"Well, um," he clears his throat, unsure of what he should say to rectify the leaking awkwardness in their conversation, "you could talk to me about it if you want... you know, about your bad day."

"I _said,_ you should be on your way." The reply comes curt, unfriendly, and it cuts through the wall of pity Sunghoon had been building mentally for the boy. _What the heck is this dude's problem anyway? This is why they say there's no good that comes out of being a samaritan._

"Look, I would, but I'm kind of missing work for this."

"I didn't ask you to stop for me," the boy argues.

And you know what? It's a valid argument. But Sunghoon's already been walking on the last of his nerves for the past few weeks and being told off for _caring_ about a perfect stranger when he hasn't even been caring after himself all that well... it's the last straw for him. At the last second, though, he manages to reign in his anger and he calms himself down, engaging in the breathing exercise he learned from the _one_ yoga lesson he bothered to sign up for.

"So, you mind leaving?"

"Not until I know you're not going to do something stupid after I leave," Sunghoon answers simply. "I know you're sad, and that you had a bad day, but—yeah, that was a dumb start. There aren't any _buts_ there. Thing is, I'd feel a lot better if you let me call a cab for you now or something."

"For what?" the boy bites, almost too defensively. Sunghoon draws back, and notices that the boy has let a finger escape, and that it's now nestled in the bed of tall grass, twining stems of what might've been flowers when spring arrives to coat the city in color again. It twirls and twirls, and Sunghoon watches the repeated motion as if transfixed. _Pianist hands._ His wrist is relaxed and his fingers curved into the shape of a half dome.

Sunghoon shakes himself out of the trance and replies, "So you can get home. I don't know, stay safe?"

"Who are you?"

"Sorry?"

"You heard me the first time."

"No, I'm just confused. Are you asking for my name or...?" his sentence trails off into a question. He's always been told that helping people isn't always the easiest task, but this boy has been anything but cooperative so far. Sunghoon's just glad that he's finally beginning to loosen up and talk, though the sharp tone of wariness and distrust remains staining the boy's wavering voice. He gets a nod as an answer, and so he says, "Park Sunghoon. What's yours?"

"Park Sunghoon... I've never heard your name before. _Fuck._ Just say it, then. How much are you asking for?"

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow in confusion, but it's not like the boy can see it flash flat across his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"The price. To keep your mouth shut about this. _Name it_ ," the boy forces through gritted teeth, the sound thick with frustration. It's that exact moment that Sunghoon sees his face for the first time, the thin veil of soft moonlight breaking the shadows clinging to his features. He's beautiful, and Sunghoon doesn't know what he was expecting, but it isn't this. _This_ , as in fox-like eyes slightly tilted upwards at the ends, though they were puffy and red from all the crying, it's not a scene that reflects what _he_ sees when he breaks down in front of the mirror. This boy cries like it's a scene from a movie, so much so that it seems unreal. It's an uncanny feeling that Sunghoon has seen this before that traps him in his thoughts for a moment while the boy next to him begins to shift and stand up.

"Wait, are you leaving?" Sunghoon's asking before he can stop himself from running his mouth, the words slipping through his fingers like sand, like water. It's funny, how easily they come now, whereas before, even when he wanted to sing for himself to keep the loneliness at bay, he couldn't even do that. Those same words are present here, right now, right this second, for a stranger who's been nothing but rude.

The black-clad boy only crosses his arms and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, clearly out of distress. "No, I'm going to call my manager over now so you guys can talk it out and leave me alone. Which press are you from?"

He's on his feet, too, before he knows what he's doing. "I'm telling you, I don't have a clue what you're on."

"Cut the bullshit, _Park Sunghoon."_

Whoever this guy is, he's sure got a talent for pronouncing names like curse words. Sunghoon's so impressed he can barely pull himself together to feel offended that it's _his_ name being thrown around in question.

"What about the photos, have you gotten any? I'll pay you off, so erase them right now."

"Look, I'm still lost, but honestly, only an idiot would erase the photos or whatever before getting the transaction's complete."

"So you _are_ one of those media dogs, yes?"

There's silence threading into the weaves of the gentle breeze in the air, and Sunghoon's starting to get a really bad feeling about this encounter. _Media?_ _Pay me off?_

The boy must have gotten a good, long look at how Sunghoon is _very much_ perplexed, because he visibly grows laxer as his eyes dart around nervously, as if surveying the area. "Okay," he begins to voice slowly, the hesitance clear in the pause between every word that threatens to spill out his mouth. "If you're not paparazzi, why'd you stop here to talk to me, then?"

"Is it a bad thing to try to be nice? You were literally crying here, right next to the damn river."

"No one is just ' _nice'_."

Sunghoon heaves a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I only stopped for a bit because I thought you might need help. Seeing as you're okay now, I think it's time I get going... It was nice meeting you, have a good night," he bids his goodbye in a tight exhale and begins to walk away, when this time, it's the boy who calls him back.

" _Wait_!"

He doesn't know why his body obeys the command. But he _does_ still, and he _does_ stay and listen. Maybe it's because he's longed for something like this for a long time, even dreamed of it—talking to someone again. Or maybe it's just that he sees his own loneliness reflected in the eyes of this boy. "What."

"You really don't know who I am?"

It's such a ridiculous question that Sunghoon promptly bursts into laughter. "You have no idea how conceited that sounded, do you?"

"No, I—"

"Judging by everything that just happened, I'm guessing you must be some kind of a... public figure?" Sunghoon catches the bob of the boy's Adam's apple. "You must've been on TV, cause I got the feeling like I've seen you somewhere, I just can't remember _where_ exactly. Uh, it definitely doesn't have anything to do with you, I'm just very out-of-touch with the entertainment world. Just with the world in general, I feel like too many things happen in such a short amount of time here. It's overwhelming. I'm making it sound like I've been living in a well—it's really nothing like that, celebrities just aren't one of my interests."

"You're not from around here?"

"My family moved around a lot, but mostly to very small, remote towns where the only celebrities the locals know are trot singers. So I'm going to go ahead and assume you don't do trot."

"I'm an actor," the boy says.

Sunghoon makes an 'o' with his mouth and swallows past the lump in his throat. He doesn't know why he isn't as anxious as he should be. He's literally standing in the vicinity of an actor, one he might've seen on the screen before. There's no sensation of being starstruck and glued to the floor in blind reverence or anything along the lines of that. He's old enough to know that being in the public eye is detrimental to your mental health and can chip you away as a person, but witnessing one of these seemingly 'untouchable' people cry and sob just like he does... all Sunghoon knows how to feel for this boy is pity. He looks young, about Sunghoon's age. Public figures are admired, but before they get there, the less glamorous behind the scenes they never show is the part where they'd have to be reduced to _objects_ of admiration and for viewing first.

He doesn't know what to say. Logically speaking, you wouldn't want to be pitied by a passing stranger, so Sunghoon crosses that option out of his list. He's left with... admittedly not much to work with. And since the boy is now refusing to fill the silence, Sunghoon's going to have to do it instead.

"Do you have somewhere to be right now?" he asks, impulsively.

The young actor's face is colored with shock for a brief second before his expression is schooled to neutrality again. He shakes his head.

"Wanna get some _hotteok_ with me?"

It's really got nothing to do with his failing attempts at comforting the boy. It's more of a spur of the moment thing, and Sunghoon missed dinner, so he'd just blurted out the first food that came to mind when his stomach growled.

" _Hotteok?_ _"_

"Yeah, I actually work night-shifts for this store and we sell really good _hotteok._ It won't be the best you've ever had cause', of course, it's always better to eat it fresh from the markets, but it's warm. And we aren't stingy with the cinnamon filling or the syrup either."

"Do you make it without the peanuts? I like them—"

"With just the syrup?" Sunghoon's eyes light up, and he nods furiously in agreement, "Yeah, me too! It really tastes much better without the stupid peanuts or the sesame seeds. It's just that much more comforting when you bite into it and there aren't any nasty surprises, you know? Apparently they're supposed to give texture, but personally, I feel like the crunchiness factor ruins the comfort aspect of it. I'm running late for work but I think my friend would be willing to cover for me tonight—he kinda owes me one anyway."

At first, Sunghoon thinks he might hear a resolute no immediately, but the boy hesitates, sniffling and rubbing at his red eyes like he's considering the offer carefully.

"Is it far?"

"It's usually a twenty-minute walk or a little less when I'm taking my time," he tells the boy, pulling out his phone to check the time. It's currently five to nine. "If we're quick I think we can get there in... thirteen? Yeah, sounds about right."

A pebble lands near Sunghoon's feet, all the way from where the boy stands. "Crowded?"

Sunghoon shrugs. "It's alright. My shifts are always pretty dead. It's the neighborhood—it's mostly people stopping by to grab a pack before they walk home. Either that or they stay for a bit to eat ramen for a midnight snack." He appraises the way the boy's dressed and hums, "You'd blend right in with a mask and everything. Just don't look too suspicious I guess."

The actor tears his eyes away, looking over his shoulder briefly to cast a glance at the river. Sunghoon thinks the boy's lip might be bleeding, chapped and cracked from all the incessant gnawing, coupled with the dry, cool breeze. "Okay," he whispers, barely audible. But Sunghoon catches on and they start to walk in the direction of the store together, wordlessly, and with caution evident in their silent steps.

They're halfway into the walk when Sunghoon remembers to ask, "I didn't get your name."

He learns that it's Kim Sunoo.

If Sunoo had been expecting a certain reaction, he doesn't get it. The name _does_ spark some recognition in his brain, and he remembers seeing it in the passing while he's passing time on the toilet scrolling through online forums mindlessly. But he doesn't want to make this weird or create an uncomfortable situation that the boy might feel cramped into, so he doesn't say anything. Just—

"Okay," he says.

If it weren't for the fact that Sunghoon had been listening intently with keen attention, he would've missed how his ' _Okay'_ had been returned. Echoed softly, carried away by the wind.

Still, it reaches his ears.

In retrospect, Sunoo's decision to follow Sunghoon is nothing short of a reckless mistake that could've led to a PR disaster. There isn't an end to the malicious stories the press can spin and generate out of a simple, innocent photo just to ruin a career and rip it to shreds. He's been fortunate that it'd been _Sunghoon_ who'd found him crying by the river, but he doesn't want to think of it that way. He shouldn't feel _lucky_ just because someone has been decent enough to not invade and expose his privacy to anyone who'd listen.

Another thing he shouldn't be doing is following this guy he's just met for the first time minutes ago, lured to some shady corner store for some _hotteok_ like a kid being entranced by the Pide Piper. The path they take is fairly lit and illuminated by flickering lampposts, but it's a bright night and they don't actually pass by anyone. _At all._

Every time they round a corner, Sunoo holds his breath thinking that he might get jump-scared by a camera flashing to blind him momentarily and catch him off guard, but quite literally nothing happens. Nothing out of the ordinary, which in itself is an unordinary occurence for him. Deep inside his pocket, he feels his phone bumping and rubbing against his leg as they walk. Even through the relatively thick layers, Sunoo can still feel the non-stop vibrations and the heat rolling off of the device. It's probably overheating from how many messages he's getting from his team and concerned colleages. It's not like they're concerned for the right reasons, though. If he were to unlock his phone now and scan through all the notifications, he'd probably see a text from Soojung, the female lead opposite him in the drama they're close to wrapping up (thankfully), saying: _where r u????? u better not be planning on delaying the shoot one more time._

It's for the best that he doesn't check his phone now. Not until they manage to track him down and drag him back to the company anyway. Hopefully not _too soon—_ because as much as he doesn't want to betray his diet plan, hot pancakes stuffed full to the brim with cinnamon and syrup and honey _does_ sound nice.

They reach the store, a malfunctioning sign that looks suspiciously similar to Family Mart's greeting them head-on, though the green and blue are swapped out for red and orange. It's hard to miss for sure. The tables and chairs scattered on the deck outside are quickly slid into place as Sunghoon walks past them, working so naturally that it seems like he's done this a hundred times before. Sunoo lags behind him, not wanting to step foot into the store first, but at the same time Sunghoon reaches for the chairs before he can even try to help, so he just hangs around like when you're over at your relative's place and you're told to rest while the cousins are tasked with the dish-washing. It feels like he should be doing _something_.

Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn't take long before he's guiding the both of them inside. Sunoo books it for the spot towards the back of the store he'd spied through the windows earlier, positioning himself carefully so that his back is to the counter.

"Sunghoon! Where were you?"

As discreetly as he can, Sunoo opens up his camera app, deliberately ignoring and clearing all his notifications before adjusting the angle so that he can see what's transpiring at the cash register. There's another guy, shorter than Sunghoon, leaning over the counter where they're talking.

Sunghoon's fingers find his nape, pressing the heel of his hand into it like his neck is hurting.

"Look, can you cover for me today? An emergency came up and it's not something I can really explain..."

" _Hoonie._ "

"I mean, you kinda _do_ owe me one," he reminds the shorter guy, a nervous smile hanging off his mouth in starts.

"I would've covered for you regardless," the guy replies earnestly, waving the notion off, "what I mean is, next time something like this comes up, _call_ me. Or text me. Or _something._ I worry a lot about you, you know? Ahjumma does, too, so tell us if you need help or anything."

The smile grows wider and Sunghoon leans forward on his feet to punch the guy lightly on his arm. Sunoo gulps, and quickly turns off his phone—he'd been worried Sunghoon might conspire with his coworker to contact the press and give away his location, but instead he'd just borderline stalked the nice guy who seems too genuine to be lying in the first place. But you can't blame him for being careful. The threshold between his private life and work have blurred into a single line, so easily toed and breached that even a brief glance from a passer-by would trigger his flight-or-fight instinct. Especially when his manager is actively hunting him down and he knows that his time alone is running out...

He tunes out the conversation at the front of the store and rummages through his pocket to search for bandaids or tissue but finds nothing. Defeated, Sunoo slumps in his seat and wonders if it's safe enough to browse the selection of snacks they have in stock here. On the table, his phone starts vibrating yet again, the name _Manager Choi_ flashing persistently, begging him to pick up. It's the youngest of his three managers—and also the one he's grown the closest to. Yeonjun hyung has never imposed seniority on him or used his age as a means to get Sunoo to do something he doesn't want to, so they get along pretty well.

Which is how he knows that if he accepts this call right now, his every word would be shared on loudspeaker for everyone to hear—his team, his parents, and probably the senior writer of his current project.

Sunoo has Yeonjun's number—his _personal_ number—and the older boy only ever uses his work phone for, well, matters of business. If he'd really been calling out of concern to check up on how Sunoo's doing, he would be calling from his other phone. He knows it's late, and there's a stone tied to his sinking stomach that's filling him up with guilt. Yeonjun can't even get off work cause _the_ notoriously difficult Kim Sunoo has decided to pull a disappearing act on them yet again.

Before he can mull on it further, a hand extends past his shoulder and Sunoo jolts in surprise, rearing back before realizing it's just a white paper bag already blooming with grease stains at the bottom— _just_ how he likes it. He takes in a deep inhale to appreciate the intoxicating mix of cinnamon and butter and turns to Sunghoon gratefully, "You weren't kidding when you said you guys are good at making this _."_

"I don't mess around when it comes to food," Sunghoon assures him, holding his own bag up as if he's giving a little cheer. He moves to occupy the seat opposite Sunoo and lowers his voice into a deep hush, "Are you feeling better now?"

He lifts his shoulders up, then drops them instantly. When they do, it still feels like there's some kind of muffling, invisible weight setting camp there, refusing to budge. "Fine," he lies.

Sunghoon lifts a brow and Sunoo knows that _he_ knows, and sits there waiting to be bombarded with questions like it's an interrogation, except it doesn't happen. With the hot snack sandwiched between his hands, pulsing and warming them up with searing heat, there's nothing but weighted silence accompanying them.

It's funny that this is the first time Sunoo feels _seen,_ and it's when Sunghoon, this stranger who's just happened to find him crying one random night, sees right through him. And his barricade of lies.

There's something else they're sharing in this moment besides the _hotteok_ they're eating, and Sunoo isn't too sure what it is but it's too strange to think about. There's an impulse driving him crazy with a need to spill all his secrets to some guy he barely knows ( _doesn't know at all, actually)_ and that'd be fucking insane, so he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

He makes a small tear in the crinkling paper bag and pulls out the pancake, and already his fingers are sticky from the light coat of filling brushed over the top of it as well.

"You guys sure are generous with the portion," he marvels, taking his time to admire the glaze of it before sampling its taste.

"Ah, I always make them at home after a good cry," Sunghoon teases, and Sunoo's eyes dart up to glare at him. "Try it!"

Sunoo bites into it, and the golden syrup oozes into his mouth, flooding his taste buds with sweetness like someone's tucked a flower under his tongue. He closes his eyes and relishes in the bliss that's being packaged and sent to every rejoicing cell in his body. The second bite, bigger this time, practically erases his mind and spins him into a state of transcendence. If heaven has a _hotteok_ stall, _this_ would be what it'd taste like. He opens his eyes and sees Sunghoon grinning from ear to ear, so intrigued and enraptured by Sunoo's reaction he's forgotten to eat his own. "What the hell did you put in this?"

" _I know."_

It's stupid that it's what happens next, and even more stupid and idiotic to his own ears when the voice inside his head puts it to words, but Sunghoon's smile is what makes the _hotteok_ go cold in his hands finally. Maybe it's just because he's developed a habit over time of having to look at people without _looking_ at them, but when his eyes finally come into focus on Sunghoon's face, his heart stilts, then his stomach lurches, and the _stupid, stupid_ chest palpitations drum and make his ribcage vibrate with renewed fervor—a kind of excitement and thrill he hasn't ever experienced before.

His heart is fluttering, isn't it?

Sunoo breaks their eye contact so he can lower his faze and tear off another piece to stuff his mouth with something. Sunghoon's eyes are wide and expressive beneath his dark brows, his small face is framed with messy black locks that make his fingers itch with _want._ He's imagining how it'd feel to card his fingers through this boy's hair, wondering if it's just like what's he's done with plenty of pretty girls before. On his last birthday he'd made a stupid wish on a whim before he'd blown out the candles. He'd asked for a chance to love like he does in every one of his roles, even if it's temporary. It had been mostly for jokes, but there's a little part of him that's been secretly holding out hope since, wishing desperately on every shooting star that it'd come true.

Do you know why they say you should never speak your wishes into existence?

So you don't feel half as stupid when they don't come true.

But his fingers are drumming on his thigh right now, stuttering when his hands lose feeling from all the anxiousness occupying every crevice in his body.

"You should come by every time you have a craving," Sunghoon says, softly, sheepishly. A small wisp of a smile turns the corners of his mouth up and Sunoo spots a mole right there, on his chin. There's another one, on his left cheek—then his eyes land on another, this one on the slope of his nose.

Sunoo wants to play connect the dots.

"I will," he replies, though his promise falls flat and empty.

If Sunghoon has something he wants to say about it, he ends up holding his tongue, and Sunoo is glad they went down that route. He doesn't want to talk about fact that he's not meeting Sunghoon anymore, not after this chance encounter ends eventually. With his manager sequestering him off back to his heavily guarded home, back to reality, where he'll be surrounded by mountains of scripts and people who'll brief him endlessly on the same schedule he's expected to memorize. Yeah, he's glad they're not talking about that, because Sunoo doesn't think his body has any more tears to spare.

But sometimes you just can't help but wonder about the roads not traveled and how it might've turned out. Considering his situation, though, Sunoo doesn't think it would've made much of a difference.

Instead, Sunghoon opts to say, "It's the ahjumma's family recipe, you know?"

"The... _hotteok_?" He raises it to his mouth for a final bite and while it's cooled down from the air-con blasting at full speed, it doesn't make the burst of flavor in his mouth any less gratifying.

"Yeah, she owns the store. They've owned it for generations, actually, but she only recently rebranded it to attract more new customers. She personally comes over to teach the new part-timers how to make all the snacks on the menu right whenever someone's hired. She'd pass it down to her family, but she doesn't have kids so she's kind of waiting for someone to express interest in taking over the business."

"Are you?" Sunoo folds the bag into a small square and presses it between his index finger and his thumb. "Interested in taking over the store, that is."

"Ah, no," Sunghoon laughs, much to Sunoo's relief. He'd been worried that the question might've come out condescending or lofty, but it seems like he's safe. For now. This is why he speaks very rarely around new people—people who wouldn't have prior knowledge that in all of his life, he's made a grand total of two friends, and one of them is his damn _manager_ , the other a fellow actor he hasn't talked to for four months and counting. He's just not good at establishing a connection with people, be it someone older, younger, or the same age as he is. Sunoo just. _Just._

As ironic as it is, he just has never been particularly eloquent, never had a way with his words. So he walks on eggshells when he has to navigate even the simplest topics, the ones that barely scrape the tip of the iceberg.

There's not much he can say, anyway. " _Oh what's your favorite memory as a child?" "I don't know, I don't think I have one._ "

There _is_ an answer to that, of course, but it's a bit depressing to speak aloud and the reception is always cold. Sunoo's happiest memories have never been the ones _he_ , Kim Sunoo experienced. No, they're the memories of rain-loving Lee Kihyun, or the boy next door Byun Youngmin, or endlessly positive Shin Wookyung. _"I once played a character who'd broken an expensive vase while he was playing with dolls and his mother had come asking if he's alright, and not once did she scold him for being careless. I think that's my favorite memory as a kid."_

Yeah, so in most cases it's better when he doesn't speak. Like his senior manager never fails to remind him, his job outside of acting is to sit still and look pretty.

"I make a mean _hotteok_ , but I admit I don't like this enough to dream of working here every day for the rest of my life."

"Then who will?"

_Stupid,_ he berates himself mentally as soon as he asks the question. It's such a _stupid_ thing to say—how is Sunghoon even supposed to know?

"Mm," Sunghoon thinks aloud, like he's actually turning over Sunoo's question in his head. "I don't know, I suppose the right people always come along eventually."

Looking at Park Sunghoon, who's quietly nibbling on his snack, immersed in his thoughts, Sunoo finds himself longing to be inside his head. _What do you think about? Do you really believe that? That—the right person eventually arrives?_

Cause Sunoo wants to. Perhaps, if he believes in it enough, it might actually come to be true one day.

He just has to hold out till ' _eventually_ ' turns up.

Sunoo bursts out the doors and waits at the edge of the deck while Sunghoon takes his time inside, probably explaining to the other part-timer there ( _Jake,_ he'd learned) why his friend was acting so weird. He doesn't have to stand there for too long till he feels the boy's presence approaching him.

He should probably say something.

He doesn't.

Sunghoon doesn't, either.

They're watching the sky together, and somehow it just feels right. There's a draft in the air that feels like it's pushing against his ribs to get in. Here's the problem of March—it can never decide if it wants to leave winter early for spring, like a fickle-minded lover who can't decide what's better for their heart. Time is slipping and Sunoo kind of wishes tonight never happened, so he wouldn't have someone to miss when all of this is over.

"What did you come to Seoul for, then?" he finally gathers enough courage to ask.

"I'm here to write love songs."

Well. That's different. Sunoo turns his eyes onto Sunghoon, who's steady gaze has already found him. "Love songs?"

"Yeah," the boy says, giving the whole truth up so easily it makes him blush a little. Sunghoon blushes from the tips of his ears, and only then down the color slowly tickle down and spread into his cheeks. "Thing is, I've never been in love, so..."

"You came to the _city_ to find love?" Sunoo shakes his head incredulously. He's been to a lot of places over the course of his career, and not many are as devoid of love as concrete jungles like Seoul are. If love is really what he's after, it's no wonder Sunghoon hasn't gotten what he's searching for yet. After all, he's been looking in all the wrong places. "You won't find it here," Sunoo tells him, serving the cold truth to him on a silver platter. It's a hard pill to swallow, but he also doesn't want Sunghoon to waste any more time. It doesn't do any kind souls good to stay here for long—the busy skylines have a way of sucking the compassion and warmth right out of anyone. "Are you a singer?"

"No, nothing professional like that..." Sunghoon coughs into his fist. "I just. Songwriting is, as cheesy as the choice of word is, my passion. I'm working on it."

"So why love songs specifically?"

"I guess it's just exciting to chase after the unknown," the boy sums up neatly. "Love songs are pretty, aren't they? And you can always tell when the person's in love. I can't write about what I know nothing about, so..."

Sunoo doesn't tell him that it's doable, that he's been doing it for years now. There's a certain quality of innocence to the boy who'd paused on his way to work to comfort a crying stranger that he doesn't want to disillusion. The selfish truth is that Sunoo just doesn't want to be the one to have to tell Sunghoon that he's not even sure if what Sunghoon's looking for, exists. He's not bitter enough to straight-up deny its existence, but he can't allow himself to be too hopeful.

"Thanks for everything," Sunoo exhales, breathing each word out gently, like they might break if he isn't careful enough. The words themselves aren't vulnerable, but he is.

"There's no need to thank me," Sunghoon answers quickly, his crooked smile back on his lips. "I'm glad we met."

"And thanks, you know, for not... prodding. About,"—he points at his eyes, undoubtedly still swollen. He can still feel the lingering soreness—he can only hope that it's something he can sleep off or his prep time tomorrow is going to stretch on past his limit.

"I had to leave _some_ material for our next conversation," Sunghoon says.

"Next conversation, huh. You're that confident about us meeting again?"

" _Very._ The snowdrops raise the chances by approximately eighty-nine percent, or so I've heard."

Sunoo cocks his head. "Snowdrops?"

Sunghoon points at a patch of white on the ground, right at the edge of the deck. He'd initially thought it was just snow, but upon closer inspection, they appear to be flowers. Small ones, that grow in clusters. Their stalks are thin and long, and they give way to tiny white petals that droop into a bell-shape. " _Those_ are called snowdrops. First flowers to bloom when spring is only waking, so it's said they represent hope."

Yeah? Sunoo calls bullshit. But it's a comforting lie to sleep on, that this won't be their last goodbye.

So he pretends to believe it.

Sunghoon wants to walk him to where Sunoo will till his manager to pick him up, but the latter declines—if his team finds out that he's been hanging out with someone outside the list of 'potential friends' they've very kindly narrowed down to, they'd freak. Big time. So Sunoo only waves as he retreats, and hopes that his forced smile works as well as it does on camera, and that it doesn't betray the sinking feeling in his chest.

As soon as he's sure he's out of Sunghoon's line of sight, he's pressing the hem of his pull-over into his eyes before the tears can fall and leave their mark on the tar. No one would know except for him, of course, that he'd ever cried on this road. There wouldn't even be a _trace_ of him left behind when the next round of rain washes even his footprints away. He doesn't care—Sunoo does it anyway. To keep this night a secret he's sharing with Sunghoon. _Only_ Sunghoon, out of the seven billion people in this world.

Two hours later, he's back in his bed, nestled under layers of blankets and comforters, when a google search tells him that snowdrops not only symbolize hope, but also sympathy and consolation.

He falls asleep with his phone pressed to his chest.

**[ fade to black ]**

_**[♪](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VMSdwRCKaU&ab_channel=1-800-LOVE-U) ** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't already, do make sure to listen to the song linked! it's really good :]
> 
> thanks for making it this far, the next chapter will be longer for sure, and it's only going to keep getting longer as we approach the final chapter! leave comments and kudos and i promise i'll reply when i have time >< my exams are coming up soon and yeah,,, i'm supposed to be studying HAHAHAHA
> 
> my twitter is @ricecookerym!!! and my curiouscat is https://curiouscat.qa/ricecookerym
> 
> i love you <3


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